Convergence
by Drow Elf
Summary: A rather silly tale of the lands of Faerûn, Middle Earth, and Alagaesia coming together.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me. It all belongs to the masters who created them.

**Convergence**

**Chapter One**

**What They were Doing before It Happened**

Frodo stumbled as he sliced his foot yet again on one of the numerous sharp rocks in the treacherous paths of Emyn Muil.

"Mr. Frodo!" cried Samwise Gamgee, rushing to his wounded master, unraveling a bandage as he scrambled down the ledge.

Frodo waved him away. "It's too late, Sam," he panted. "I've already left enough blood on these stupid rocks for Gollum to smell a league away."

"But Mr. Frodo, we've got to patch you up, lest you bleed to death."

"Oh," said Frodo, sounding rather surprised, "well, carry on then."

Sam knelt next to his master, but then realized his dilemma. Frodo was bleeding quite profusely, blood gushed from his foot with alarming intensity. However, well, the two beleaguered hobbits had been trekking through the rocky hills for days, and neither of them had had a bath in twice that long.

Even the flies avoided the stench that emanated from Frodo's foot.

"Well?" snapped Frodo irritably. "We haven't got all day."

"Yes, Mr. Frodo," mumbled Sam, quite distraught by his predicament. He propped Frodo's foot on his knee, nearly choking as the disgusting odor wafted into his nostrils.

Frodo's eyes narrowed.

Sam gulped and gingerly began wrapping the scrap of linen around the appendage, taking great care to not touch the foul source of the smell.

Finally, when all hope had faded, just when Sam began to believe that he could tolerate the reek no longer, he was done wrapping. With a small sigh of relief, he quickly constructed one of the many knots his gaffer had taught him and pulled it quite tightly across Frodo's wound.

Frodo's anguished cry echoed through the lonely canyons.

Drizzt Do'Urden was _not_ a Peeping Tom.

At least, that's what he told himself as he watched with bated breath as Innovindil slowly began disrobing next to a glassy pool in the middle of the forest.

Drizzt loved Catti-brie; he loved her more than air. However, he had not taken into account precisely how _constricting_ being committed to only one woman was.

Anyway, was it _his_ fault that he had just _happened_ to come across Innovindil at night in the middle of nowhere, _disrobing_?

Nope, such a happy coincidence was not possible; it had to have been ordained by the gods somehow. Drizzt kissed his emblem of Mielikki, and gave a silent prayer of thanks for this holy vision.

Roran, not being able to take Eragon's ranting any longer, started a lively game of sudoku by drawing with sticks in the sand.

"I mean, _why_ can't Arya and I be together?" sobbed Eragon, kicking a stone into the distance, and then launching into a fit of cursing as he clutched his foot.

"Oh, I don't know," muttered Roran, "maybe because you're eighty-five years younger than she is? Oh dear, that nine can't go there." He scratched out one of his runes.

"You don't know what you're talking about," snapped Eragon. "Besides, you can't play sudoku because Garrow never taught you how to write." Roran cursed and erased his game. He glared at Eragon for pointing out that bit of logic.

_You might not have Arya, but you'll always have me by your side _said Saphira.

"Yes, but I can't, you know, _do_ anything to you. You're a dragon," pouted Eragon.

_And yet you straddle me day after day_ sniffed Saphira, accidentally setting their supplies on fire.

Eragon's renewed cursed were drowned out by Roran's peals of laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_**What They Were Doing When It DID Happen**_

The ground beneath Gollum's feet lurched unexpectedly, which was a seriously bad thing since he was, at the moment, scaling down a sheer cliff toward two sleeping hobbits, whispering to himself all the while.

With a bloodcurdling cry, he landed on Frodo and Sam, scrabbling about like a lightheaded dog/spider.

"Whoa! What's that!" shouted Sam, coming awake slowly, trying to get hold of his senses. The ground shook again. This time it didn't stop.

"Sam, what's happening?" asked Frodo. "You're waking me up early today; it's dark still."

"It's not me, Mr. Frodo. The ground's a'shaking, and that little rascal was trying to sneak up on us. Good thing ol' Samwise Gamgee was keeping a sharp eye out."

"My precious!" screamed Gollum, lurching for Frodo, his fingers curved claw-like to throttle the hobbit.

All three vanished in a flash of pure white light.

As Innovindil was about to drop the last garment, a flash of pure white light consumed her. Drizzt wailed in dismay just before he was sucked into the vortex also.

"Please," whimpered Pippin. "Not again."

"We'll do anything," added Merry. "Just not that. Please, sir, if there's a kind bone in your body…"

"There's not!" shouted Uglúk. (**Author clarification: If you don't remember, Uglúk was the chief of the Isengard uruk-hai at the beginning of The Two Towers) **"Now, see here. We saved you from that big, nasty warrior a few days ago…"

"Boromir was our friend!" cried Pippin.

"…And we've kindly carried you all this way to Fangorn Forest…"

"_Dragged_ us more like," muttered Merry.

"…And I'm tired! The least you nice little halflings can do is give a poor old orc a good back massage."

"Nooooo!" wailed the frightened hobbits together.

Uglúk lay down on his stomach, his gnarled, bare back facing the stars. "Begin or I start cutting slivers off those oversized feet of yours and roast them on a spit," he snarled.

The hobbits, tears streaming down their faces, reached tremulously for the orc.

All three vanished in a flash of pure white light.

Roran was snoring uproariously, but it was nothing compared to Saphira. Eragon couldn't sleep, literally. Ever since his transformation into an elflike creature, the most he could do was enter a sort of reverie, which was kind of like meditation on steroids.

It might have sounded cool, but in this heightened sense of awareness, Eragon could sense all movement and all noise. So far, he had been jolted into wakefulness by two sparrows, six deer, a small family of groundhogs, and, of all things, a partridge in a pear tree.

The partridge was particularly annoying. It had disturbed Eragon no less than eighteen times in the last hour. Eragon, gifted with his understanding of animals, blushed at the names the bird was calling him. Apparently, Eragon had chosen to chop down the partridge's other pear tree to use to light the campfire. The partridge had not taken to that, and was now using the foulest language to describe Eragon's character, his parents' character, his parents' unique choice of mating rituals, and the ancestry from which said rituals might have originated.

Finally, Eragon snapped. His palm began to shine with a silver light, and he pointed at the partridge, a word of death forming on his lips.

They all vanished in a flash of pure white light.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_A Chaotic Beginning_

The plains of Rohan vanished instantly. Then, for a moment, everything became muddled. The next thing Aragorn knew was that there was a soft green light coming down on him from above, and darkness below. He didn't seem to be standing on anything, or sitting, or lying. Nothing appeared to be touching him. "I believe I'm in water," said Aragorn. "Or _under _water." This frightened him for a second, but almost at once he could feel that he was rushing upward. Then his head suddenly came out into the air and he found himself scrambling ashore, out on to smooth grassy ground at the edge of a pool

As he rose to his feet he noticed that he was neither dripping nor panting for breath as anyone would expect after being under water. His clothes were perfectly dry. He was standing by the edge of a small pool, which was not more than ten feet from side to side, in a wood. The trees grew close together and were so leafy that he could get no glimpse of the sky. All the light was green light that came through the leaves: but there must have been a very strong sun overhead, for this green daylight was bright and warm. It was the quietest wood you could possibly imagine. There were no birds, no insects, no animals, and no wind. You could almost feel the trees growing. The pool he had just gotten out of was not the only pool. There were dozens of others, a pool every few yards as far as his eyes could reach. You could almost feel the trees drinking the water up with their roots. This wood was very much alive.

Looking about, Viggo (I mean Aragorn) found himself very much alone, and decided to stretch out and have a bit of a nap. This may have seemed silly, but one must keep in mind that Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had been running nonstop for the past two days on their desperate pursuit of Merry and Pippin, eating nothing but stale _lembas _from the Elves, and only stopping when Gimli would pause to puke.

He closed his eyes, preparing to slip away from reality and into a tantalizing dream of Arwen, when all of a sudden he felt a tongue on his mouth.

"Brego!" yelled Aragorn, pushing the grand chestnut stallion away from him. "I told you no more kissies! Besides, that part doesn't come until later in the movie. Don't ruin it for everybody."

Brego snorted and clopped away in search of greener grass, which he prudently found on the other side.

Gandalf watched with satisfaction as Aragorn crawled out of the pool. He chuckled when the horse Brego bestowed it's decidedly European kiss on the future king. Within seconds, other heroic characters began splashing out of the pools.

Merry and Pippin emerged lying atop an Uruk-hai. Sam appeared attempting to wrench Gollum's long fingers off Frodo's neck. Drizzt looked puzzled as he gripped an emblem of Mielikki. Innovindil screamed and leapt back into the pool, where she slipped her robe back on. Legolas seemed to be busily brushing vomit out of Gimli's beard. Roran, Saphira, Eragon, and the crispy remains of a partridge were thrown out of yet another pool.

"Welcome!" greeted Gandalf, but was interrupted by the emergence of Arya, primly powdering her nose. Eragon perked up a bit. Gandalf cleared his throat and began again; "Welcome!" he cried, but was interrupted yet again by Bruenor and Wulfgar, engaged in a fierce arm-wrestling match. Gandalf tapped his foot irritably because nobody was paying any attention to him as they gossiped amongst themselves, and because he kept getting cut off by new arrivals. He threw his arms out wide, brilliant white light bursting forth from his robes. He hated using the old shining light trick because it was so cheesy, and it was hard to find light bulbs of that wattage in large quantities at Wal-Mart, and it was hard to conceal all of the said light bulbs in his pockets without breaking them whenever he sat down. However, it seemed to work; the din settled down. "Welcome, one and all," said Gandalf huffily, feeling a bit winded. "I suppose you're wondering why you're all here…"

"It's Saruman!" shouted Aragorn, drawing his sword. "Kill him!"

"It's who?" asked Eragon, bewildered.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Drizzt.

"I am not," said Gandalf crossly.

"Yes you are!" insisted Aragorn. "Don't speak, wizard! I'll not have your spell on me."

"What are you guys talking about?" asked Eragon.

"Where are we?" wondered Drizzt.

"I've already spoken, so I could've put a spell on you if I wanted," said Gandalf. "Now listen to me, really. I've got something you've got to hear."

"No! Legolas! Get him!"

"Hold on, good elf," said Gandalf hastily. "There's no need for HEY!"

An arrow thudded into his ivory staff that he was holding in front of him. Legolas cursed profusely in Elvish, his bottom lip quivering dangerously. "Sorry, Aragorn. I missed."

"It's all right, Legolas," consoled Aragorn, patting Legolas on the back as the elf collapsed to the ground in tears.

"B-b-b-but I never miss!" wailed Legolas. "Watch the movies. I never miss once! Stupid wizard; I hate him." He threw his bow onto the ground in a tantrum.

"There now, look what you've done," accused Aragorn, brandishing his sword at Gandalf. "You've gone and made him cry, you monster."

"Now see here," said Gandalf, rather distressed, but getting very angry that his plan wasn't going according to plan, "he's the one that shot at _me_. It's not my fault he poked a hole in my staff. Now listen. I'm Gandalf, not Saruman."

"Gandalf's dead," said Aragorn.

"No he's not. I mean, no I'm not. Well, I was, but now I'm alive."

"Bull."

"No, really. See, I was fighting the balrog. We fell down that big hole, see, and we splashed into this big black pool. Then the coward ran and climbed up the durned mountain. Well, I chased him and whupped his butt. But, being seven thousand years old, I had a heart attack and died out of sheer exuberance. Then the Valar told me to get my old, wrinkled butt back to Middle-Earth and take care of business. Now this is where I deviate from what Tolkien wrote and go into what the _**MAGNIFICENT, ILLUSTRIOUS, SUPREME, OMNISCENT, ALL-POWERFUL, MASTER OF THE ARTS **__**DROW ELF**_ writes."

"Would someone _please _tell me what's going on?" pleaded Eragon.

"Sure, I'll tell you, young man," said Gandalf, pleased. "Now here's the deal…"

But he was interrupted by the arrival of Thibbledorf Pwent.


End file.
